


White Clouds

by Babeldeefish



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst and Feels, Blindness, Creek Week, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 09:50:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babeldeefish/pseuds/Babeldeefish
Summary: Even in his wide, broad ocean of insecurities, Tweek had always hated depending on others. He never wanted fast and easy answers or solutions, he wanted to find them himself, with just someone who could lend an ear from time to time. And that's what Craig learned to do.





	White Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Creek Week 2018 on Tumblr.  
> Day 5, Prompt: Hands
> 
> A thank you to trixie8264 on Tumblr for the beta-reading.

Craig's eyelids trembled and slowly opened when the faint winter morning light hit them. An annoyed grumble escaped his dry lips, as he tried to hid his face in the pillow the same way he used to when, as a kid, his mother had to use all her persuasive – and somewhat menacing – power to get him out of the bed and off to school. But that sensation of tiredness that afflicts every student in the morning vanished as soon as his mind was lucid enough to realize his school days were long gone.

He rolled over in the warm duvet and, as he slowly started to wake up, a sweet melody spread in the whole house; it was a tune Craig knew so much he could tell exactly every pause and every single variation in intensity. If he would focus hard enough, he could have heard the small, delicate taps of Tweek's fingertips on the piano keys, but, as his boyfriend always used to say, “if you focus too much on making or listening to music, you'll miss music itself”. And Craig knew that no one was better than Tweek at listening.

He stretched his arms, stood up, wearing those horrible slippers his parents brought him the last time they visited, and stealthy walked down the stairs. The music grew louder as he approached the living room until his eyes finally spotted his boyfriend's messy figure seated in front of the piano. He went closer, his footsteps muffled by the soft carpet, and a glimmer of mischief in his still-sleepy eyes. But before he could do anything, the melody stopped and Tweek's voice took its place as the only audible sound.

“Don't even think about it”.

“Aw, man” Craig complained. “How did know I was here?”

“Fourth step from the bottom” was Tweek's fast reply. “It creaks when you step on it, you should know it since I asked you to repair it a billion times”.

Craig pouted and sat next to him on the piano bench, resting his chin on Tweek's shoulder.

“Sometimes I really hate your super hearing”.

“Oh poor little Craigory, he can't even prank his blind boyfriend because he has such a heavy pace the whole house shakes when he walks around”. 

Tweek let out a light hearted laugh and ruffled Craig's hair, before speaking again in a gentler tone:

“Don't be sad, I'm only teasing you, come on! Hey, I made coffee, my father sent me this new blend and he absolutely wants you to try it. Go on, it's on the kitchen counter”.

A rare, gentle smile appeared on Craig's lips just before he got up and went to the kitchen. On the counter there stood his usual blue cup with a small plate laying on the top to prevent the coffee from becoming cold. As soon as he removed it, a bittersweet aroma began spreading all around the kitchen and the lukewarm ceramic of the cup instilled a pleasant, relaxing feeling to the touch.

That was only one of the many, little things Tweek did for him basically every day. He remembered the strange, twitching boy who was afraid of everything and a chuckle escaped from him; even in his wide, broad ocean of insecurities, he had always hated depending on others. He never wanted fast and easy answers or solutions, he wanted to find them himself, with just someone who could lend an ear from time to time. And that's what Craig learned to do.  
He listened to him freaking out when they entered high school. He listened to him worrying over going to live together. He listened to him crying when the illness slowly took his eyesight away.  
He couldn't recall how many years had passed since Tweek had become completely blind. Five, six, maybe seven. During those years there had been many times Craig felt actual fear and, while a sneaky, scared voice inside his head was telling him to run away, something else always persuaded him to stay. And before he could rationalize it, he came to understand that he needed Tweek as much as Tweek needed him.

Still lost in those thoughts, he pull aside the kitchen curtains and a vast expanse of white met his eyes. A thick layer of snow covered the whole garden like a clean mantle while a feeble winter sun was shining just behind the clouds, making the air less freezing than how one would have imagined.  
After finishing his coffee, Craig washed the cup in the sink and went back to the living room, where Tweek had started playing the piano once again.

“So, how was the coffee?” he asked, still gently pressing the ivory keys with his fingers.

“Good, I guess. I didn't taste much difference from the usual. Is it just me or your dad gave me a promotion from “soon-to-be-son-in-law” to “personal-guinea-pig-for-coffee-tasting”?”

Upon hearing that answer, Tweek's right hand slipped on the keyboard and an amused laughter came out from his lips.

“Gosh, you're so stupid!” he stated, covering his mouth with a hand out of embarrassment. “See? I was right calling you Stupid Craig, back when we played superheroes with the guys”.

Craig's heart throbbed for an instant when he heard Tweek's laugh, a sound probably even more sweeter than the sound of that piano, at least for his ears. He moved closer and hugged him from behind, his arms resting on the other's shoulders and the chin on his head.

“Hey, talking about playing, it snowed all night. Why don't we go out for a while and you take a break from the whole composing thing?”.

“Aw, so you do miss me! I'm sorry, Craig, but you know my boss. He's going to kill me if I don't finish the main theme in time”.

The dark-haired boy shrugged and sat once again on the bench.

“What kind of theme they need?” he asked.

“It's a sort of dramatic movie, like two stereotypical characters love each other, one of them is sick and dies and the other one is left alone. You know, like those shitty movies our mothers always watch while doing the housework” Tweek said in a mocking tone.

“So a sad, pathetic theme that makes all the people in the audience cry like little babies. Ew, pretty lame, if you ask me”.

“Sure it is, but it's my job, so...”.

But before he could go back to his work, he felt something suddenly squeezing his left hand and then pulling him on his feet.

“Wait, Craig, what are you doing?”.

“It's the first snowfall of the year and I'm far too generous to leave my boyfriend here composing the soundtrack for the fucking poor man's “Autumn in New York”. So now you're going to dress up and come out, just for a little while, ok?”.

Tweek sighed; even tough he knew it was impossible to argue with Craig when he made the “mom-voice”, deep down he was thankful for his stubbornness. Maybe the thing he hated the most since he became blind wasn't blindness itself but, instead, that urge to show others he didn't need any help, despite his illness. And of course this resulted more than once in Craig forcing him to rest after he passed out from overworking.  
An endearing smile appeared on his face, just a second before he felt something heavy, but pleasantly soft, land on his head.

“I can get my jacket myself, you know?” he pointed out, with a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“You're welcome, honey” Craig's snarky respond didn't wait as he took again his boyfriend's hands in his, gently helping him wearing his gloves.

But as soon as Tweek's fingertips touched the woolly fabric of the gloves, he quickly withdrew his hands and his face tensed up with a gloomy expression. He lowered his head, frowning, and started torturing his fingers like a neurotic.

“I--” he spoke in a low voice. “I don't want to go out anymore. I have to work. You can go by yourself”.

Craig opened his eyes wide at that sudden change of mood. What on earth happened?

“W-wait, what?!” he stuttered. “I don't want to go alone, come on! What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing”.

Without further ado, the blond-haired boy threw his jacket on the sofa and moved back to the piano, sitting on the bench and starting playing again. His hands were now stiff and cold, like the ones of a dead body, and his fingers weighed like lead; every time they pressed the piano keys, it needed all his willpower to rise them again. And suddenly they lost sensitivity and slipped, producing a cacophonous, irritating sound.

“Fuck it!” Tweek's angry shout echoed in the whole house. “Why won't these things work?”

Craig watched the scene with his lips slightly opened from the surprise. It has been so long since he last saw Tweek losing control like that; and out of nowhere the memories of that time started unfolding before his eyes, like an old movie.  
He firmly approached the piano, making his steps clearly resound on the floor so that the other could hear his presence, and sat once again next to him.

“I remember when you started losing your sight” he said calmly. “We were fighting because you didn't want to use a cane. You yelled at me that you didn't need me to give you the kid-glove treatment. But leaving, you bumped against the door frame”.

“Why...?” Tweek quietly spoke. “Why are you reminding me that?”

“Because you had the same reaction. Your nose began to bleed and you burst into tears. Not because of the pain. But because of fear. And now you're scared again. What are you scared of?”.

The boy sat there, silently staring at his hands caressing the black and white keys. The only sound that could be heard was the kitchen clock which ticked with each passing second. Craig waited, that was what he learned: to wait and just listen.  
And then, Tweek's trembling lips opened.

“Are there clouds in the sky, today?” he asked.

Craig raised an eyebrow upon hearing that question, but quickly answered anyway: 

“Yeah, there's a bunch of clouds today”.

“And... what color are they?”

“What?”

Tweek fell silent for a couple seconds but then spoke again.

“They said it would become easier eventually. But it never happened. Since I lost my sight, my hands have been my eyes and I was fine with it. But when you tried to put me those gloves on, it was like I had become even more blind than before. I-it's not easier, it's harder and harder because as time goes on, I'll end up forgetting everything”.

His voice was shaking and a couple tears ran down his cheeks.

“I haven't seen anything but dark for so much time I'm afraid I won't remember even the most obvious things... or worse, the most important ones. Hands are just hands, they will never be able to tell me if the clouds in the sky are white or gray, they can't tell me if the person I'm speaking to is happy, sad or even listening to me. They'll never tell me color of your eyes, your hair, your skin... if I can't see you, I'll end up forgetting you, Craig! Sooner or later I'll forget your smiles, your colors, I'll forget even that annoyed face you always make. I-I don't want to. But... I just can't remember. I can't remember something I will never be able to see again. Look at me, I'm not sure even about the fucking clouds. What color are they?! I don't know anymore... and it hurts. I-it hurts so fucking much, Craig...”

He bit his lower lip, uselessly trying to suffocate the sobs. He had never been so helpless and vulnerable; a heavy sensation weighed on his chest like a rock and a deep feel of shame began growing in him. He was about to cover his face with his hands when all of sudden he felt Craig tenderly grab his wrists and something soft and warm touching his lips.  
Only one second of confusion could be read in his eyes before he finally relaxed and enjoyed that kiss. His tears came to a sudden stop as his lips caressed and tasted the other's, which were still impregnated with the strong coffee aroma. For some reasons he couldn't explain, Craig's kisses had always had a thaumaturgical effect on him; unlike those crappy teenagers books he read as a kid used to tell, he never got butterflies in his stomach. Instead, the sensation of the other's lips on his had some sort of soothing effect, his heart regained a normal pace and his breath slowed down. 

Every muscle in his body finally relaxed by the time that kiss ended. And then he felt his lips again, but this time on the palm of his right hand. His mouth trembled with emotion and his eyes filled with tears once again when Craig eventually spoke:

“You know I'm not good at dealing with feelings, well, let's say I'm terrible at it and probably I should say something like “you won't forget me, the human brain has an amazing capability to store information even when we don't realize it”. But that's not what you need to hear”.

He laid a light, tender kiss on every phalanx of Tweek's hand, and lovingly intertwined their fingers.

“When you're afraid of forgetting, just ask. If you want to know if my hair is black or blond, or if my eyes are green or blue... ask even the stupidest questions and I shall tell you. I will never grow tired of answering you whenever you'll need it, I promise”.

After a long moment of silence, Tweek let a small relieved laugh slip from his lips.

“You really are terrible at expressing your feelings. But... thank you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me”.

When Craig heard those words, he felt like all the blood in his body suddenly rushed to his face, making it burn, but before he could give voice to one of those emotionless replies he used as a defense mechanism, his boyfriend's hands cupped his cheeks.

“See? I don't need my sight to know you're embarrassed, you're literally on flame. Calm down, will you?”

“You're not funny, Tweek!” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “By the way, it's all your fault! Can we go outside now, please?”

Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and wore his own jacket. Tweek followed and as soon as he stepped outside, he felt the mild sun rays heating up his skin and creating a pleasant contrast with the snow's coldness he could perceive through his boots. He inhaled the gentle winter breeze and raised his head, and anyone who didn't knew of his blindness could have sworn his gaze was lost in the light blue sky.

“Hey, Craig”.

“Yes?”.

“Tell me... what color are the clouds today?”.

Craig smiled and took his hand, walking by his side in the snow-clad garden, whispering to him, like a secret never to be told, one single word.

“White”.

***

_Click._

“Hope this recording is the right one. So... I really had the hardest time in composing this piece, I tried to imagine what is like to lose your loved one but it's not something you can easily picture in your head nor something you want to think of. So I tried to find something everyone has felt at least once in their life. Not the pain of losing, but the fear. When we are children we fear the monsters under our beds and we tell to ourselves that one day we'll be braver. But we won't. We just get afraid of different things. The monsters under our beds crawl out and we see them for what they are: insecurities, loneliness, isolation. I felt all these things when I lost my sight. People called me brave, but what they really thought was “thank God, it's not me”. I wasn't brave, I was terrified by all that darkness and I still am. But fear never comes alone. When we ask our parents to check for monsters under our beds, something else is slowly growing. Hope. We hope they'll chase the monsters away as soon as we call them in the middle of a nightmare. When we get older, we hope one day we'll get better in spite of all. And even if we don't, we still hope that tomorrow is going to be a nice day. Because people are made like this. They are made to fear but they're also made to believe there's always a way out, even from the darkest places. Sometimes we find that way ourselves, sometimes we need others to point it out for us.  
So what I wanted to do with this piece was to give a sound to the moment in which fear becomes hope and we tell ourselves “maybe I'll try to see if tomorrow is a good day”. Please, listen to it.  
Track number 8. Main theme. Title: White Clouds”.

_Click._


End file.
